Day 22: Myers Flat - Standish Hickey State Park, 70km

Breakfast in the hotel was served at about 9 so we elected for a late start and a well deserved lie in. When there is a heat wave, however, such a notion is a little daft. Nonetheless we enjoyed our first fry ups whilst chatting to a couple from San Francisco.

Nearing 11am, and the hottest part of the day, we set off. The heat seemed to be relenting but it was still in the 90s. Cycling along the Avenue of the Giants (hwy 254) we passed Miranda and Phillipsville, when we passed back onto 101 and into the direct glare of the sun. I felt like a basted turkey it was so hot, and the sun-tan lotion in the eyes was a constant hindrance.


Just before Garberville we endured a 2 mile climb - it was nothing to write home about after our recent exploits, although I would a liken it to a spinning class in a Swedish sauna minus the nudity and 80s pop. At Garberville we did a shop, having found a store with fresh fruit for the first time in over 100 miles.

Past Benbow we again left 101, snaking over and under it along a minor road. On paper we were cycling up the smallest of gradients and yet if felt like someone had snapped my legs of and spliced them with leg shaped jelly. The shade was nowhere to be found as the heat brought us to our knees. If ever there was a meal to be made we were making it as each blip brought us to our knees.

The route rejoined 101, to leave again onto hwy 271 through Cooks Valley and Piercy. It was frustrating to keep leaving what felt like a direct route but as joined 101 for the final stint up to Standish Hickey we realised why. The road was winding, with no hard shoulder and rammed full of weekend traffic, hell bent on knocking us off. Within a minute I could hear an RV thundering up behind me. I felt comfortable that with a bend coming he (it had to be) would slow down. The very notion was ridiculous. Having moved out a mm, I could feel him brush my panniers as the passenger stuck out their arm and pulled in the wing mirror to avoid Tim.

At such moments the fight or flight hormone either stuns you into silence as you watch the unfolding events in slow motion, or it incenses you. I wouldn't say either of the two options dominates, but was happy to realise that as my eyes squeezed shut, my mouth opened wide...

On Confusion Hill we saw a cola sign and careered off the road to get an icy cold drink. As we crawled to a stop the owner haughtily told us to move our bikes to the other side of his benches. Hmm.

We concluded we had 3 miles until the campground. 6 miles later we were still pedalling. Our reward, however was a really cool shop across the road from our place of rest which served beers and stocked eclectic books about mushrooms and cannabis..